


Untitled Brigador Short

by hexenritter



Category: Brigador (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexenritter/pseuds/hexenritter
Summary: A very rough first draft and test run of a glimpse into the workings of both Clade Thrain, Solringen Strategic Solutions' Division of Field Litigation, and their Special Activities Group.





	Untitled Brigador Short

Senior Field Litigator Hazel Bradley woke with a start, engulfed by the sensation of tepid warmth, and... wet... slimy... something. Her abdominal muscles clenched as she reflexively hauled herself into a sitting position, bursting forth from the thick fluid with a sound that reminded her of pulling a boot out of quagmire. Immediately, a wordless, uncontrolled, gurgling cry erupted from her throat, her body doubling from the force of it. 

Hazel wasn't just heaving, her entire body was throwing itself into this as the same oozing substance she was submerged in came riotously splashing out of her mouth., seemingly without end. Keeping her eyes closed, she just trusted that there was a menial with a vac funnel nearby catching the stream of suspension gel so it didn't float away.

"See, you can always tell when someone's done this a few times," came a familiar voice from somewhere to Hazel's right. As she slowly came out of the initial purge cycle and settled into coughing to rid her lungs of what little remained, she looked in the direction of the voice. Bailiff Sergeant Patrick Navarro's pressure suit was already dry, and he was occasionally smacking the back of her other companion on this trip, Bailiff Second Class Ernst Weber.  
"They don't think they're drowning and wind up breaking their own finger because they were flailing around like a cat on fire." He finished with a chortle, which drew Hazel's attention to Weber's right hand. 

"Good job, boot." She deadpanned, wiping suspension gel from her pressure suit and scraping it from her palm on the lip of the grav couch as she anchored her weightless form by hooking her left foot under one of the low profile belts and bars studded all over the ships walls.

"This is why we sedate ungu--.. ahem... visitors before they are immersed, and usually for a short time after surfacing. The influence of the hindbrain is too strong for most to overcome without conditioning, and only repeat exposure makes it any easier. In any case, we have translated back to conventional space and are presently operating under silent running protocols. There is no indication we have been detected, nor do I expect them to do so until we are well within optimal range of our primary armaments. Chronokinetics indicate that you have precisely two hours and thirty-two minutes before we enter low orbit, after which we will approach the station obliquely, following the daylight terminator."

The new voice was coming from a flat screen embedded in the wall between the couches Weber and Navarro had used. It showed an androgynous, almost avian face so angular and sharply defined that the chin and nose could easily be described as functionally knifelike. Skin like smooth alabaster was only interrupted by the merest suggestion of a pair of blue-black eyebrows and ice blue eyes so pale that the light they caught seemed to shine from within.

"Thank you Captain Ehrlich." Hazel replied, though the screen had already gone black, switching back to a series of telemetry readings in whatever language these Spacers used internally.

"That was a whole lot of words just to say "we're nearly there, fuck. Brevity, people..." Weber muttered, nursing his hand.

"You do realise he can probably still hear and see you, right? And even if he can't..." Navarro nodded toward the gangly figure at the other end of the room in the off-white gelsuit. The menial continued about their appointed tasks without outward acknowledgment, gathering the pouches that contained a mix of vomit and suspension gel and attaching them in turn to a port in the wall marked by a pair of arrows doubling back on themselves.

"And I could never get used to that either..." Weber continued, undaunted. "Knowing that the piss and shit of everyone on this thing just keeps going round through a recycler and back into the system."

"I, you do rea--... no, just go check out the water treatment plant in D Sector when we get back home, and I'll just leave this conversation right there. Now, if you're done potentially offending our hosts, you can head to the aft hangar and check inventory. I'm going to go get that steak that I had them start growing before we left. Navarro?"

"Real, actual meat, or unidentifiable billet of bean curd, fungus and krill. Gee, let me think about that one for a second." Hazel's sergeant pantomimed weighing two invisible objects for a moment before lightly pushing off the wall behind him with one foot, gliding across the grav lounge.


End file.
